


The Heart's Song

by wishwars



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Courtship, Cute, Damen is 25, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Laurent is 20, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, adorable Laurent, as far as I'm concerned he never existed, cinnamon roll Damen, the Uncle shit never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishwars/pseuds/wishwars
Summary: Damen, Crown Prince of Akielos, was sent to Vere to begin drafting a peace treaty between their countries. His stay is coming to an end when, after a court celebration, he must help a drunken Laurent back to his rooms. While Damen has been carefully keeping his growing feelings for the King of Vere’s younger brother under wraps, Laurent’s loose tongue makes him reevaluate his approach.[A 2-part short fic featuring drunken ramblings, accidental confessions, and a short-lived misunderstanding.]
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first captive prince fic and my first fic I’ve written in a while, so I may be a bit rusty... I love these boys though, and I hope this fic brings a smile to your face!

Even sequestered in the small feasting room, the sound of the fifteenth toast rang out as loud as the first might have in the large chamber hall:

“A toast, to our brother of Akielos,” Auguste hollered, his voice much raspier and his words more slurred than at the beginning of the evening. “May our countries only ever know peace!”

He held his glass high and then fell more than sat back into his chair as the hurrahs of his and Damen’s courtiers sounded out in answer. Damen held his own glass up with a grin, stifling his laughter at the way Auguste listed to the side a bit as he drank. The young King of Vere had been leaning more and more heavily to one side as the night wore on and Damen wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of their revelry his head had landed in the neighboring lap of his advisor, the lovely Lady Vannes. He also wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t mind, Veretian taboo be damned.

As it was, much of the court was well on its way to drinking themselves into a stupor. Damen found that the wine in Vere was sweeter than in Akielos, and certainly not as strong. That, coupled with his own extremely high tolerance due to his body weight, meant that Damen was only now feeling the buzz of the alcohol spreading over and under his skin. He would admit, however, that he had also been holding himself back. He always became a bit too loose under the influence of good wine and better company, and now was not the time for a slip-up. He may still have some maturing to do in the realm of readying to take over his father’s duties as King, but Damen understood how much was at stake in these talks. Riding to Vere to negotiate the first round of peace talks with their new King was his largest and most important duty yet, and he believed his father would be proud of all the good work he had done alongside Auguste to create the first draft of their treaty. He also genuinely liked Auguste and looked forward to the good relations their kingdoms could share when he also became King. All of the past few months of good relations would be for naught, however, if he slipped up now, especially in regard to the young man beside him.

Crown Prince Laurent of Vere was, to put it mildly, the most stunning man Damen had ever laid eyes on: graceful under pressure, quick with a solution and even quicker with a sharp retort, and more beautiful than any human had a right to be. As far as Damen could tell, every member of Auguste’s court loved and hated him in equal measure, except, of course, for Auguste, who absolutely unequivocally adored him. And that, in itself, was part of the problem. If Auguste knew how Damen had been thinking of his brother, he would never be allowed in Vere again. Or perhaps he would simply never allow Damen to leave Vere alive in the first place.

On the best of days, Damen found Laurent irresistible—laced up tightly in Vere’s senselessly ostentatious fashion, Laurent oozed confidence and grace. Nothing he did seemed accidental and yet he somehow managed to constantly surprise Damen. It was ridiculously attractive. Now, Laurent’s face was pleasantly flushed, his lips dyed a dark red from all the wine he had consumed, and his eyes, as they surveyed the room under heavy lids, were glassy and unfocused. Even sunk low into his chair, Laurent managed to make a drunken sprawl look elegant and Damen could not stop his thoughts from translating Laurent’s looser demeanor into a  _ much  _ different context. Oh, but he would look absolutely delicious spread out and flushed like this on Damen’s bed, drunk from a different kind of pleasure… 

_ Stop that,  _ Damen thought to himself harshly.  _ Get a hold of yourself! Now is not the time to _ —

“Damen.”

The sound of his name dropping softly from Laurent’s lips beside him thrust Damen back to reality and he blinked quickly to find Laurent’s heavy gaze turned toward him. And dear Lord he was a  _ vision _ .

“Yes, Laurent?”

Laurent quirked a smile at Damen that he could only call mischievous and Damen felt his heart tug behind his ribs a bit. Oh, but he had it  _ bad _ . As much as he mourned the thought of returning to Akielos in two days’ time and leaving Laurent behind, he thought some time away from the golden prince might do him some good.

When Laurent lifted an imperious hand to gesture Damen towards him, however, Damen could do nothing but lean across their chairs’ arms in obedience. 

“You are leaving in two days,” Laurent murmured, his hand falling towards Damen and landing abruptly on his arm. Damen felt his eyebrows raise in surprise—he had never seen Laurent touch anyone but his brother—but quickly smothered his reaction and nodded solemnly.

“Yes, that’s right. But I have greatly enjoyed my time here.”

Laurent gave no indication that he had heard him, instead biting his lip most distractingly and staring blankly at Damen’s chest while rubbing his hand almost absent-mindedly across Damen’s arm.

“Then time is running short,” he mumbled, as if to himself.

Damen’s mouth began to form a question in reply when Laurent abruptly, and none too gracefully now, used his grip on Damen’s arm to leverage himself up and forward towards him. Damen quickly moved his other arm to capture Laurent’s waist, so he didn’t go tumbling out of his seat, and immediately found himself with his arms full of Crown Prince.

“Umm…” Damen began, glancing with panic at Auguste who, thankfully, was still thoroughly distracted by Lady Vannes, only to have his attention wrenched back to Laurent when he felt the younger man’s lithe body press even more insistently against his own.

“Damen,” Laurent practically purred, his nose almost touching Damen’s, his eyes blinking slowly in contrast to Damen’s own owlishly wide ones. “Damen, I want to suck your cock.”

What came out of Damen’s mouth in that moment could only be described as a squawking-mewl.  _ Oh no _ , he thought.  _ Oh nooo _ . Did Laurent understand what he had just said? Did Laurent realize what he was doing to him?! This moment could absolutely not get any worse—

“Damen!”

It took him a moment to realize that his name had not come from the lips just inches from his own, but from across the room.

He turned his head so quickly towards Auguste that he felt his neck muscles scream in protest only to feel an answering scream rise in his throat as Laurent practically face planted into Damen’s shoulder.  _ Oh no, no, no no _ , he thought, as he starred in absolute horror at Auguste, who even in his drunken state could not help but miss the fact that his brother—his precious little brother—was currently stretched between their chairs, wrapped in Damen’s arms, and  _ nuzzling _ his neck.

Damen felt on the verge of a heart attack as he watched Auguste squint towards them, his mouth twisting in thought. This was it. This was the end—of peace, of friendship, of Damen. Perhaps he would be allowed to at least write a letter to his father before Auguste separated his head from his body. Perhaps—

“Damen, I think you should get Laurent to his rooms. He does not like to stay up this late and he looks about ready to pass out. I would normally do it, but—” and here Auguste threw Damen a rakish grin as he leaned even further towards Vannes, “I find myself a bit indisposed.”

Damen opened his mouth to respond, but all he could do was croak as Laurent’s nose began exploring the juncture between his neck and his collarbone. Even having only had a few glasses of wine Damen suddenly felt faint.

Clearly his throat roughly, he pulled himself together and waved his hand towards the King. “Of course, I shall get him to his rooms safely. Goodnight, my friend.”

Auguste lifted his cup towards Damen in a final salute and then mercifully turned his gaze elsewhere. Damen blew out a breath as he carefully extracted himself from Laurent and stood up, doing his best to ignore the smaller man’s pout as he did so. In many ways, Auguste’s request could be seen as a blessing—his trust in Damen spoke well of their future as neighboring rulers and friends—but Damen couldn’t help but also see it as a punishment. Laurent was clearly only fawning over him because he was drunk and Auguste must assume (and rightly so) that Damen would never take advantage of someone in such a state. Still, having to deal with Laurent like  _ this _ was going to absolutely wreck every boundary Damen had so carefully been erecting between himself and the Crown Prince since his first day in Vere.

“Alright, Your Highness, let’s get you to your rooms,” Damen said, finding himself smiling at Laurent despite his interior agonizing. Laurent almost always wore the courtly mask that Damen had never quite mastered like it was made for him, breaking it only in his more intimate interactions with his brother, which Damen considered himself honored to have witnessed. Currently, however, his face was showing more emotion than Damen had ever seen from him and it was adorable: his nose was scrunched up in distaste and his lips were pursed and puckered like he had begun sipping vinegar instead of wine.

Laurent murmured something under his breath that sounded rather like a petulant “I don’t want to,” but when Damen extended his hand towards him, he quickly found it grasping Laurent’s elegant fingers and wrist. When he pulled Laurent up, however, the smaller man quickly stumbled into his chest, smothering his giggles by pressing his face into Damen’s pectorals.

Sending a silent prayer towards the heavens, Damen carefully  _ did not _ think about the feel of Laurent’s breath on his skin, instead manhandling Laurent so that one of his arms was slung over Damen’s neck, with Damen’s own arm carefully wrapped around his waist for support. Only a couple steps forward, however, revealed that Laurent was not able or perhaps unwilling to even attempt to walk, determinedly letting all of his weight rest on Damen as he swayed dangerously towards him.

With a sigh, Damen gave up trying to maneuver Laurent and instead simply swept him up into his arms. It meant that Damen had to deal with the torturous temptation of, once again, having his arms full of Laurent, but it seemed the best way to do as Auguste had bade him. Besides, the faster he could get Laurent to his room, the quicker he could retire to his own and wallow in self-pity and disgusted arousal.

Unfortunately, the young prince seemed determined not to let this be easy for him.

“I knew these muscles weren’t just for show, but this is absolutely ridiculous.”

In normal circumstances, these words would not have felt completely exceptional coming from Laurent’s mouth and would most likely have been paired with an indifferent expression or judgmental eyebrow raise. Now, however, his words felt hot and appreciative, his tongue tripping over “absolutely ridiculous” in a way that should not have been attractive but was. It also didn’t help that his hands were currently mapping those muscles as best as they could from his position nestled within them. Damen would now have to live the rest of his life knowing what it felt like to have Laurent caressing his skin… a blessing and a punishment indeed.

“You are a very large man,” Laurent said thoughtfully, tracing the line of Damen’s right pec. Damen, not trusting his voice at the moment, grunted in reply. He could see the intersection ahead that would lead him to the royal family’s chambers, thank god.

“Would you say that you are… everywhere in proportion?”

For a moment, Damen was simply puzzled, but when Laurent’s meaning sunk in he was suddenly clutching Laurent very tightly because it was either that or drop him onto the ground and he figured no one would be pleased by that outcome. As it was, Laurent didn’t seem to mind at all, simply pressing himself further into Damen’s arms and making what Damen hesitated to call a purring sound, but really didn’t have the frame of mind to conceptualize in any other way.

“Hnrg,” Damen replied, lengthening his strides as he rounded the corner and barely restraining himself from breaking into a sprint at the sight of Laurent’s door in the distance.

He had been hoping for the presence of guards outside Laurent’s chamber—planning to politely dump Laurent into their care and escape with as much of his sanity intact as possible—but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that they were alone. Why guard an empty room? They were most likely patrolling the corridors instead. Unfortunately, this meant that Damen could not just leave Laurent propped up against his door, as much as the idea appealed to him at the moment. Instead, with another prayer and a sigh, Damen maneuvered the door open and then shut behind him, carrying Laurent bodily to his bedchamber and the four-poster bed he really hadn’t needed to know was outfitted with dark navy silk sheets.

Placing Laurent gently down, Damen tried to extract himself only to find that Laurent had a firm grip around his shoulders and was currently trying to pull Damen down on top of him with his own not inconsiderable strength.

“Damen,” he whined, somehow managing to twist his leg up around Damen’s thigh in a way that had Damen worried he was at risk for pulling a muscle by how hard he was trying  _ not _ to become noticeably aroused. “Please stay, I’ll be so good for you!”

Damen did not like to admit how quickly he was losing the battle with his own body.

“Laurent, you are drunk,” Damen said firmly, managing to extract his torso from Laurent’s octopus arms and working to uncurl his leg from where it was currently lifting the skirt of Damen’s chiton. “You do not know what you’re saying.”

Laurent snorted, “Of course I know what I’m saying! I’ve been thinking about it since you showed up on our steps in that ridiculous towel you call clothing.”

“It’s a chiton,” Damen grumbled, “as if you’re one to talk about ridiculous clothing.”

No sooner had he escaped Laurent’s limbs than he felt Laurent fumbling at his belt and practically jumped away in terror.

Laurent’s answering pout did  _ not _ stir his blood even further. It did  _ not _ .

“Laurent,” Damen said with a sigh, passing his hand over his face, “I am not going to sleep with a drunk person, okay?”

Now Laurent was just glaring at him and Damen had to fight down a smile. Even now, Laurent seemed to think he could glare his way into and out of anything.

“You deserve better than that.”

After another moment of glaring, Laurent seemed to have accepted his defeat, at least momentarily, and turned his glare onto the laces of his jacket. Damen watched with amusement as he began poking at them ineffectually.

“Besides,” Damen continued, approaching the end of the bed cautiously, ready to jump away should Laurent so much as twitch in his direction, “you shouldn’t ask for things drunk that you wouldn’t want sober. You’ll just regret it in the morning.”

Laurent looked back up at him with another decidedly-Laurent expression that said he was unimpressed and frankly insulted by Damen’s idiocy. “I wouldn’t regret it.”

Damen watched Laurent wrestling with his laces a bit longer before he risked stepping forward and kneeling before Laurent to help.

For a while, Laurent seemed content to watch as Damen slowly and carefully untangled the knots Laurent had managed to make and then began unlacing his jacket.

“I mean it though—I wouldn’t regret it. And I  _ do  _ want it sober.”

Damen glanced up to find Laurent watching him with hooded eyes and had to swallow heavily before looking back down to continue his work. He had finished one sleeve of Laurent’s jacked and moved on to the middle when he realized that the line of laces there pointed directly down toward the noticeable tent in Laurent’s trousers. In all honesty, Damen was actually impressed he had managed to get it up after having consumed so much alcohol.

_ Another unhelpful thought… _ he told himself, forcing his gaze away and back to the lines of neat rows he still had left to undo. This might take longer than he had hoped…

“Do you not find me attractive?” Laurent asked then, in a small voice.

Damen raised his head in surprise to find Laurent staring at him rather mournfully and felt his heart give the same insistent tug from behind his ribs that it always seemed to around Laurent.

“Attraction has nothing to do with it, Laurent,” Damen said, meeting his eyes and hoping that Laurent could hear the sincerity in his voice.

He managed to finish the rest of Laurent’s jacket in silence and then helped Laurent shrug it off. The result was an extremely tousled looking Laurent, which reminded Damen just how quickly he  _ needed  _ to get out of this room. Paired with his blown pupils and the flush Damen could now see reaching past his collarbones—good lord, his  _ collarbones _ —made for an image Damen knew would feature in every wet dream, nay every dream, for the rest of his life.

Clearing his throat, Damen moved his gaze quickly away down towards Laurent’s feet and the knee-high boots that were now the only things standing in between him and ending this torture.

“We’ll just get these off, too, and then I think you’ll be ready for bed.”

Laurent shifted onto his elbows at this and gazed down his nose at Damen in shock. “You want to take my boots off?”

Damen nodded, already leaning down to tug at the laces, “They look insufferably hot on a good day—I don’t know why you would want to wear them while you sleep.”

With a groan, Laurent fell back into a sprawl on the bed and dramatically threw one arm over his face. Damen bit down a smile and tried for the tone Nik often used on him when he did, well, anything really. “I’m sorry, did you want me to leave them on?”

A muffled “no” sounded from above him, so Damen resumed his work. As he pulled the first boot off, deliberating  _ not _ looking too long at Laurent’s foot or his ankle—and really? Since when did an  _ ankle _ turn him on anyway—he found Laurent peeking at him from beneath his elbow with an unreadable expression.

“What?” he asked, setting the boot down beside the bed before beginning on the other.

Laurent grimaced, “You know you’ve completely ruined me for anyone else, right?”

Damen looked up at him, feeling his brow furrow, even as he deftly continued unlacing the remaining boot, “What are you talking about?”

“You come here with your perfect face and your perfect smile and your perfect dimple and your perfect fucking  _ everything _ and I think—fine, he’s extremely attractive—but noooo, then you had to go and be nice and fun and witty and, and you laugh at my jokes and you make me feel safe and you… you are a  _ good man _ , Damianos.”

By the end of Laurent’s speech, Damen stood with the boot in his hand staring at Laurent with his mouth open. He had heard similar compliments before, many times over, but he had  _ never _ expected to hear such unreserved praise from Laurent of all people.

“I, well, thank you, Laurent. That means a lot coming from you.”

“See!” Laurent yelled, sitting up suddenly and if Damen dropped the boot in surprise, no one needed to know. “That’s what I mean! You are sincere and honest and forthright and you’ve absolutely  _ ruined _ me!”

With that, Laurent once again dramatically fell back onto the bed, his limbs flopped out like a starfish. Laurent would murder him if he ever found out how adorable Damen thought he could be sometimes.

Against his better judgment, Damen found himself approaching the head of the bed and crouching down beside Laurent’s head where blue eyes peered at him through strands of gold. The tugging behind his ribs had grown even more persistent and he had to fight for a lighter tone. “Well lucky for you, I will be out of your hair soon. I am sure you’ll be happy to be back to normal around here soon.”

Laurent rolled onto his side and curled his knees into his chest and for the first time since meeting him, Damen thought he could see a bit of the sweet child that Auguste was always bragging Laurent had been.

“I don’t want you to go.” Laurent murmured quietly, as if he was telling Damen a great secret.

Damen smiled softly and reached out to brush Laurent’s hair out of his eyes. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Laurent shook his head, undoing all the work Damen had just done as his hair rained back down across his forehead. “That’s not true.”

When Damen reached back up to fix it again, Laurent grasped his wrist in his hand and while Damen could break his hold in an instant, he did not—instead, allowing Laurent to maneuver his hand within his own against his chest. “I could not easily forget the man who took this from me.”

Damen could not move, was not even sure he breathed, as he stared into Laurent’s eyes—seemingly clear for the first time that night—and felt the steady thud of the heart beneath his hand. Laurent watched him back, seemingly cataloguing every feature on his face as if he might never see him again.

But that need not be. No.  _ No.  _ Damen felt his own heart racing in his chest and it took him the passing of many minutes to ground himself against the dizzying swirl of emotion that rose within him as the implications of what Laurent had said hit him in full.

He had a chance!

With a patience his father would have been proud of, Damen remained where he was, crouched beside Laurent’s head, until the younger man began to nod off and then delicately removed his hand from Laurent’s grasp. Pulling the covers over him, Damen bent to lay a light kiss on his head, leaving the room only after having placed a glass of water and bowl near the bed in case Laurent’s condition got the better of him.

That taken care of, Damen’s feet carried him quickly from the room and down the hall towards the King’s chambers. He would go to Auguste for permission now! He would—no. Damen stopped abruptly. Auguste would be as drunk as Laurent and may already be sleeping or otherwise indisposed… No, he would do this  _ right _ . Laurent deserved the honor and respect afforded through ceremony and careful planning. With an abrupt about-face, Damen turned and walked back down the hall towards his rooms with purpose.

Laurent wanted him! And not just wanted him—wanted to  _ be _ with him! Every hope, every dream of the future he’d pushed down since arriving in Vere came bubbling to the surface now and Damen’s heart sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Laurent's POV!


	2. Chapter 2

Laurent woke the next morning already groaning. Had he been kicked in the head by a horse? Perhaps fallen off of his while riding and hit his head on a rock? He was usually so careful around the horses and had never injured himself riding before, but why else would his head feel like it was about to split in half? The disgusting sour taste in his mouth and roiling stomach, however, immediately gave him his answer.

“No,” Laurent whimpered softly into his pillow as he attempted to bury his eyes away from the blindingly bright light that was already filtering in through his curtains.

This.  _ This _ was why Laurent didn’t often drink and never enough to get so drunk. So why had he done so? Well, why had he done anything remotely social in the last three months? Damianos bloody Crown Prince of Akielos, that’s why. Early on, Auguste had commented rather slyly on Laurent’s new-found interest in court life and constant presence amongst their guests, to which Laurent had sharply replied that this was too important of an event to leave Auguste solely in charge. If he had then ignored the knowing look Auguste had shot his way and the ones he had gifted Laurent almost every day since then it was only to avoid presenting Vere as anything but a united front and not because he had absolutely no way to truthfully deny his brother’s insinuations.

Laurent couldn’t help but groan again, this time in a rare display of self-pity. Why did Damen have to be so goddamn perfect? If he was simply attractive, Laurent would have been fine. True, his dimple made Laurent’s heart do a funny pitter-patter in his chest, but even that he could have pushed aside as a normal physical reaction if it weren’t for Damen’s intellect, kindness, and propensity to somehow find Laurent’s caustic remarks and sharp tongue utterly delightful.

Two days. He just had to make it through two more days of Damen and then he would be free to return to his usual routine of ignoring everyone but Auguste unless required by duty. He was sure he would miss Damen, possibly even pine over him a bit, but the sooner he acknowledged that pain, the sooner he could move past it. Perhaps he and Damen could even be friends in the future? He had promised already to keep up a correspondence with both Auguste and Laurent, though Laurent had a hunch he would receive less letters than his brother. As it should be, of course. Auguste was the King and soon Damen would be King and their newest ally—the new peace would require the cementing of such bonds—but Laurent could also admit that he was a bit jealous of how close Damen and Auguste had become in such a short time and even under the limitations placed on them by the formality of their meetings. When Laurent was feeling particularly moody, he could even admit brooding over the way that Damen seemed always to look to Auguste when he interacted with Laurent, as if to assure Auguste that he cared for his brother too. Would his friendship with Damen dissolve over the distance, when Damen no longer felt the need to demonstrate his bond with Auguste through attention to his brother?

A particularly nasty rolling of his stomach forced Laurent to cut off that depressing train of thought and he shuffled himself carefully to the edge of his bed. Once there he was pleased, but not surprised to find a cup of water and a bowl should he need to relieve himself immediately. Auguste always was a bit overbearing in regard to Laurent’s health.

Studiously ignoring the bowl, Laurent gulped down the water and held himself in tight control until the need to immediately throw it back up had vanished. Then, with halting steps, he dragged himself into his antechamber and to the entryway of his rooms.

As expected, Jord and Orlant stood on either side of his door and Jord kept his face carefully neutral as he surveyed Laurent’s most-likely horrendous appearance. “Please send a servant to the kitchens for some bread and broth as well as to Paschal for tonics for a headache and stomach upset.”

Jord nodded but stopped Laurent as he went to close the door. “I’ll send a servant for the food, Your Highness, but the tonics are already on your table within.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then nodded gratefully to Jord and closed the door. Auguste, while extremely thoughtful, was not always so prescient when in a similar state of intoxication. His assistance usually ended with the water and bowl.

It was a pleasant surprise though and, indeed, there on the table were two small vials as well as a goblet and a pitcher of water. Laurent knocked both tonics back with a grimace and then forced himself to drink another glass of water. He had just finished relieving himself in his bedpan when a knock upon the door and then Jord was leading a servant carrying Laurent’s tray of food into the front room.

“Thank you, Jord,” Laurent said, as he placed himself in front of the food and tried not to grimace at the smell. “Do you know if Auguste was smart enough to provide tonics for himself last night as well? Or should I ask Paschal to send some along now?”

Jord looked at him puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness. The King?”

Laurent suppressed the desire to roll his eyes, reasoning that it was not Jord’s fault that he felt so annoyed by the need to converse at the moment. “The tonics. Did my brother have some sent to himself as well?”

Jord’s face quickly cleared, though he shook his head. “Oh no, Your Highness, the tonics were ordered by Damianos Exalted last night, when we met him coming back from your room.”

Laurent froze with a piece of bread in his hands. “What?”

Jord tilted his head to the side a bit in confusion but was too well-trained to question Laurent back in the same manner. “Last night, Your Highness. Damianos Exalted carried you back from the party at the King’s orders and asked us to send for the tonics as soon as Paschal was awake.”

The bread fell from Laurent’s hands. “He  _ what _ ?!”

Now Jord looked concerned and Laurent could only imagine that his already sickly pallor must have turned downright ghastly. “Your Highness?”

“Oh god,” Laurent groaned, suddenly too overcome by the patchwork of memories coming back to him with Jord’s declaration to care how he looked in front of his guard. Damen had carried him and Laurent had practically  _ thrown _ himself at him! Or at least he thought he must have. The details were fuzzy and it was unclear how much of what he had been thinking had made it past his lips, but there could be no doubt that Damen had had to  _ refuse him _ .  _ Multiple times! _

“Oh god.”

“Your Highness, do I need to fetch Paschal?”

“No,” Laurent managed to mutter before promptly throwing up all over Jord’s boots.

* * *

When Laurent finally arrived in his brother’s private dining room for breakfast, he wasn’t surprised to find Auguste hunched over the table looking drawn and pale.

“You look as bad as I feel,” Laurent said in greeting, collapsing into the seat across from Auguste. His brother snorted in reply and then grimaced at the way the action must have made his head feel.

“Well I feel pretty bad so you must be more miserable than you’re letting on.”

Laurent replied with a tight smile, not willing to admit what had transpired in his room only half an hour ago. Poor Jord… Laurent would have to request that Auguste give him a day off soon in recompense.

With clear effort, Auguste managed to straighten up in his chair and moved to pass the toast to Laurent who quickly tried to wave it off. “You need to eat,” Auguste said with a frown, “otherwise you’ll feel nauseous all day.”

“I already had some bread in my room,” Laurent replied, which was technically true. After throwing up all over him, eating a few bites of bread had been the only way for Laurent to convince Jord that he didn’t need Paschal. Said bread was currently reassembling in his stomach, however, and he didn’t really want to risk more.

“So, what do you have planned today,” Laurent asked as he watched his brother agonizingly nibble on his buttered toast, “besides rehabilitation?”

Auguste rewarded his brother with a grin at that and tossed his toast back on his plate, dusting the crumbs off his hands with a flourish. “Well, I figure everyone will have a slow start to their day after last night, so we can probably put off any entertainments until the afternoon. We won’t have any formal things to attend to until tonight anyway.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Laurent asked curiously, not remembering there being anything on the agenda until their all-day final feast scheduled for tomorrow, the last day of the Akielons visit.

“I’m not exactly sure. Damen has asked to speak with us formally before the court, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.”

At that, Laurent felt himself blanch and had to forcibly clench his fists in his lap to keep from throwing up again. A formal meeting with the court? This was it; Laurent had officially fucked up  _ everything _ . Was he going to ask to redraft the treaty? Had Laurent’s behavior so disgusted him that he wanted to renounce him in front of everyone?!

A long, slow whistle from Auguste brought his mind back from the sickening spiral it had begun to descend into. “Now  _ you _ look as bad as  _ I _ feel.”

* * *

Whatever Damen’s announcement planned for that night, he was making himself scarce all day.

When asked, his right-hand man, Nikandros, grudgingly informed Laurent that Damen was running errands around town today in preparation for their leave-taking.

While he had never shown much love for Laurent before, Laurent did not think he was crazy to believe that Nikandros certainly seemed extremely displeased by him now. Had Damen told him what Laurent had done? Did he think Laurent was a shameless flirt? An indecorous, indelicate tease? Perhaps he thought Laurent had tried to force himself on Damen using the treaty as an excuse! Did Damen think that too? Oh, if only Laurent could remember what awful things he had said and done last night he could perhaps begin to make amends for them or find some way to play them off as a joke!

Instead, he had to swallow down his rising anxiety and continual nausea so that his brother wouldn’t notice and become suspicious. The hours passed like molasses and still Damen did not appear, not even for dinner! It was only as the court filed into their formal hall that Laurent realized with a sinking stomach that he would not be able to talk to Damen before his announcement.

“I haven’t seen Damen all day,” Auguste grumbled as he settled into his throne and Laurent perched rigidly on his chair beside him, “and the suspense is killing me! I wonder what this is all about.”

“Auguste,” Laurent murmured, his voice breaking slightly. He had to tell him. He had to give his brother some kind of warning.

“Hmm?”

“Auguste, I-I’m afraid I did something to ruin the treaty and that Damen has come to announce it,” Laurent rushed out hastily.

Auguste turned to him, concerned. “What? Laurent, whatever did you do? Damen is quite used to your particular brand of humor by now and I’m sure he has a much thicker skin than you give him credit for. I highly doubt he would let something so simple as an insult cancel out so many days of peaceful—”

“It wasn’t an insult,” Laurent interrupted, feeling himself flush with shame as Auguste tilted his head for Laurent to continue. “I was… inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Auguste asked, now clearly just confused.

Laurent opened his mouth to confess everything—or as much as he could remember—when suddenly the doors to the great hall opened and Damen came striding through. The words quickly dried up on his tongue, both from fear and awe as he watched Damen make his way towards the throne, trailed by two serving men. He was dressed more formally than he had any day since his arrival, with a chiton edged in gold, his crimson red cloak fluttering off his shoulders, and his gold laurel crown perched among his dark curls. He was a  _ vision _ and Laurent thought he would be sick.

With one more worried glance at his brother, Auguste turned to face his friend.

“Damianos,” he intoned formally, “why have you asked us all to gather here tonight?”

“Your Highness,” Damen said, coming to a stop before the throne, “I come on an errand I would normally wish to give more time to, but recent events have made it expedient,” here he glanced quickly at Laurent, who had to fight the urge to cover his face, “and my looming departure makes it only all the more pressing. May I approach you with a request?”

“Of course,” Auguste replied, gesturing at Damen to continue.

This was it. This was the end—of peace, of friendship, of Damen. Laurent had ruined it all.

Damen visibly readied himself, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest. “I, Damianos, Crown Prince of Akielos, have come to request the honoring of courting your brother, Crown Prince Laurent of Vere.”

There was a shocked silence for a moment and then the court erupted into whispers. Laurent knew Auguste was looking at him for an answer, but Laurent couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man in front of them, who alternated between looking at Auguste and Laurent, seemingly with equal trepidation. _What?!_

Lacking a clear sign from his brother either way, and seeming to realize that he couldn’t wait much longer to answer, Auguste turned back to Damen and cleared his throat, “You, of course, have my blessing to court my brother if he should accept your token of intent.”

This rattled Laurent slightly out of his daze. The token of intent constituted the first courting gift and was meant to symbolize the desired union between the two parties. But how could Damen have a gift for  _ Laurent _ ?

With a start, Laurent realized the two serving men had approached him and were presenting him with the boxes they had been carrying. When he reached toward the first, he realized that his hands were trembling, and he gripped the lid hard to stop. As he lifted the lid away, however, he quite forgot such control and his mouth dropped open. His eyes traced the cover of a beautiful, leather-bound journal, held closed with a clasp made of two pieces of silver, one embossed with the starburst of Vere and one with the lion of Akielos—a symbol of the joining of their two countries. The second serving man, perhaps recognizing that Laurent did not seem capable of continuing on himself, lifted the lid off the smaller box he was carrying and tilted it down for Laurent to see that within were nestled a set of beautiful writing tools.

“So that we may write to one another when I am away.”

Laurent looked up in surprise to find that Damen had drifted closer to him and was now looking at him with a smile both earnest and nervous. Laurent realized his mouth was open and closed it, swallowing heavily as he felt his throat begin to close up and tears prick his eyes.

He knew everyone was staring at him—Auguste, Damen, the court—but for the first time since he was a child Laurent didn’t know what to do or say. This was everything that he had ever craved as the second son, everything he had desired since meeting Damen but it couldn’t, it wasn’t—not like  _ this _ .

Laurent hadn’t planned to stand until the abrupt sound of his chair scraping against the ground and the clatter of the dropped lid reached his ears, and he felt himself flush in shame at Auguste and Damen’s shocked faces.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered out, “I-I have to—I’m sorry.”

And with that, he turned and fled the room, barely hearing the rising murmurs that followed him out.

* * *

Laurent didn’t realize he had been running until he felt himself slow down upon entering the garden, panting and on the verge of tears.

Of course.  _ Of course _ he would ruin even  _ this _ . He pressed the heels of his hands up against his eyes and groaned. He knew the court gossiped about him, but he tried not to actively give them things to discuss. This would be fodder for  _ years _ .

He pushed down the desire to yell and stamp his feet, taking a few deep breaths instead and trying not to panic as they caught in his throat.  _ No, no, no, no, no _ … An offer of courtship? It was practically a proposal! Never in a million years had he expected  _ that _ to happen, but then again, Damen was always surprising him, wasn’t he?

“Laurent!”

Speak of the devil.

Laurent supposed he should not have been surprised that someone had followed him out of the hall, but he had hoped to have more time to collect himself before he had to face anyone, let alone the object of his current humiliation and throbbing desire.

Taking another deep breath, Laurent quickly wiped his eyes and then turned around, courtly mask firmly in place again. It quickly fell, however, when he immediately came face to face with Damen’s sorrowful eyes and penitent posture—hands outstretched towards Laurent as if to ask for forgiveness. As if  _ Damen _ had done anything that needed to be forgiven.

“Laurent—” he began again, but Laurent cut him off with a quick flick of his wrist.

“I’m sorry, Damen,” he said, forcing his words past the lump in his throat. Damen deserved some explanation, at least. Sweet, honorable Damen. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better and—and so I would not have you tied down to me like that just because you feel it is your duty.”

Damen’s hands fell slightly at Laurent’s words and his face twisted quizzically. “My duty?”

Laurent felt his own hands twisting in front of him, as they often did when he was especially anxious, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “I understand that you feel…  _ compelled  _ to offer me your hand after how I acted and-and what I said, but you must know that in Vere, at least, such indiscretion between men need not prompt such a, well, such a gesture. Your honor, of course, bids you to act, but no one need know what I… that is how I… well…”

Laurent watched in consternation as Damen’s expression became more and more confused the longer he talked. Why was he acting like he had no idea what Laurent was saying? Couldn’t he see how hard this was for him?! Why did he have to make it even harder??

Damen let his hands drop completely and Laurent let himself trail off. Oh, how he wished he were literally anywhere else but here!

“Laurent, I’m confused,” Damen said with a frown, “are you saying you  _ don’t _ want to be with me?”

Now Laurent did stamp his foot in frustration, though he would deny to his dying day having indulged in such a gesture. “No! But I would not have you court me simply out of obligation for my own indecorous actions while, well, while drunk!”

Damen’s eyebrows climbed his forehead and then, to Laurent’s shock and dismay, he snorted out a laugh. Then, he began full-on  _ laughing _ ! This was too much even for Laurent, who believed he currently deserved such derision.

With a huff and a sinking heart, Laurent made to move past Damen, but was quickly stopped by a hand on his arm. When he glanced over, Damen was gazing at him with a smile that melted his insides. See now,  _ that _ was just not fair! Who gave a man that handsome a smile like that?

“Laurent,” Damen said again, with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, “I am not asking to court you because of what you said and did last night.

“Well, actually, that’s not exactly true.” Damen ran his free hand through his hair with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wouldn’t have had the courage to propose courtship if you hadn’t managed to convince me that you would look on the gesture favorably.”

Now it was Laurent’s turn to look confused. “What? But you only like me because I’m Auguste’s brother. I’m the Prince.”

Damen took both Laurent’s hands now and Laurent tried not to stare at them—at the way Damen’s hands practically swallowed his own, how warm they felt, how strong. Damen’s eyes were piercing though, and then Laurent didn’t know where to look.

“Laurent. You captivated me the moment we met. First, I will admit, due to your beauty, but then because I witnessed your sharp wit, your keen intellect, your unflagging loyalty, and your deep compassion. I’ve spent the last few months working to avoid revealing my feelings because I thought they would be unwelcomed by you and therefore upsetting to Auguste. I had no idea that you felt the same way.”

For the second time in the last half hour, and perhaps only the fourth time in his entire life, Laurent was again speechless. He must have looked rather silly with his mouth hanging open because Damen chuckled and squeezed his hands within his own.

Blinking to clear his eyes, Laurent couldn’t help but ask, as if to make absolutely sure he wasn’t misunderstanding, “You-you like me?”

Damen smiled, his cheek dimpling, and released one of Laurent’s hands to reach over and pluck a flower from the bush beside them, holding it towards Laurent with a question in his eyes. “If you gave me the chance, I would court you, with all the grace and courtesy that you deserve.”

While Damen had already technically presented Laurent with his token of intent, this moment felt weighted with all the purpose and excitement the first interaction had lacked and Laurent stared at the small flower and all it represented with awe.

After a moment’s hesitation, Laurent nodded, feeling himself flush deeply as Damen brushed his hair back and tucked the flower behind his ear. His hand grazed Laurent’s cheek and then settled under his chin, tilting Laurent’s face up towards him.

Laurent licked his lips.

“Is that a yes, Your Highness?” Damen murmured, moving closer to Laurent until their chests touched and every part of Laurent felt like it was on fire.

Laurent nodded, “Yes.”

With a smile, Damen lowered his head to meet his lips and Laurent’s heart sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da!! Two short, fluffy chapters about my favorite boys <3 I love slightly angsty misunderstandings that resolve happily!


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